


Our Lives to Make

by HecatesKiss



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3181721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecatesKiss/pseuds/HecatesKiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little bit for a friend. And... just because I want Isys to be hunted down and hugged...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Song of the Lonely Mountain" is from the album _The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack_. Used without permission.
> 
> For Helena.
> 
> ~*~*~  
> No part of this story may be reproduced, copied, modified or adapted, without the prior written consent of the author.~ dated 27-08-2014

Bilbo lay curled in the strong arms of his husband, the faint scent of mint hanging in the air. He snuggled down into the embrace, back warmed by the blazing fire. His smaller fingers were buried in Thorin’s chest hair.

Both were sated from their earlier exertions. Thorin shifted slightly when Bilbo’s fingers loosened. Bright eyes flickered up and then down again. Those nimble fingers slipped up and burrowed under his beard to trace over the silver and gold torc capped with ram heads. He shivered as Thorin’s fingers traced across the torc that encircled his throat, marking him as Thorin’s Consort.

“My little burglar.” Thorin murmured. Bilbo sighed and his fingers burrowed back into the dwarf’s chest hair.

“Sing to me?” Bilbo asked. Thorin smiled slightly and nodded, shifting onto an elbow. He began to hum, to pick up the tune. Bilbo smiled as he recognized it. It was the song he’d first heard at Bag End, or so he thought.

Thorin didn’t sing often, even though Bilbo loved to hear his husband's voice. It was something the other man considered private. Yet, for his Hobbit, he would.

“Some folk we never forget  
Some kind we never forgive  
Haven't seen the back of us yet  
We will fight as long as we live

All eyes on the hidden door  
To the Lonely Mountain born  
We'll ride in the gathering storm  
Until we get our long forgotten gold

We lay under the Misty Mountains cold  
In slumbers deep, and dreams of gold  
We must awake, our lives to make  
And in the darkness a torch we hold”

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment before he bent his head. The kiss was gentle. Then Thorin helped his Hobbit to his feet.

“We face a new morning, my burglar.”

Bilbo laughed. “I to my garden terrace for the morn, you to the council. And then the State Luncheon?” Bilbo asked as he slipped into a pair of trousers. Thorin nodded with a sigh.

“It was easier when I was just Thorin Oakenshield.” 

“You are now King Under The Mountain. The duties are your birthright. I’ll help where I can.” Bilbo reminded as his husband rose from the bed. Thorin nodded.

“Besides… our lives to make.” Thorin said, echoing the earlier song. Bilbo smiled and then slipped from the room, eager to check his little terrace of pots and green growing things. Thorin watched him go with a fond grin.

As he reached for his tunic, a small snow flower drifted down. He shook his head. Spring was soon enough if the Snow Flowers were in bloom. His husband would be ecstatic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. Wasn't expecting a continuation... but well... um... guess there was more? ^_^
> 
> For Helena... again.

Bilbo hummed as he wielded his finely crafted pruning shears. He still smiled at the fact they were in the shape of a dragon’s head. He snipped various herbs free and laid them into the proper baskets as he worked his way down the terrace. As the baskets filled dwarven cooks whisked them away. Some would be dried, others would be added fresh right into the pots. He nibbled absently on a mint leaf and frowned. It wasn’t _quite_ like shire mint, this heartier mountain variety. It had a bit more bite to it.

He burrowed under the heavy cloak one of the guards had draped automatically over his shoulders. He blinked when Ori bustled out onto the terrace and gave a very proper bow. That had Bilbo’s eyes narrowing.

“Bard would like to speak with you.” Ori said. Blibo blinked and then nodded. Bard, not ‘The Lord of Dale’. Bard he could speak with. The Lord of Dale and the Consort to the Throne, it was honestly best if they didn’t interact. 

“Bard is welcome out here. I only have a few more pots to go.” Bilbo murmured. Ori nodded and stepped back. Bard stepped onto the terrace with a bow. He was clad in fine wools of the blackest black and a soft green tunic trimmed with silver thread peeked from beneath the deep green hooded cloak worked with a silver dragon. Bilbo nodded. Bard leaned against the wall, ignoring both the dwarven guard as they bristled.

“How are the children?” 

“Well enough. Sigrid and Tilda both love the herb boxes. Several other women have taken to using window boxes to grow herbs, a few of the edible flora, that sort of thing. They are high enough we don’t have to worry about the pigs getting into them.”

“Good. How is Bain coming with the hammer? Dori has been rather tight lipped, I must confess.” Bilbo said with a small smile. Bard laughed.

“Then I shall not say anything, Consort. He does want to surprise you.” Bilbo made an exasperated noise. Bard raised his hands as the halfling turned and glared, shears gripped in one hand. 

“I shall have you know, it took me a month to convince Dori that he _would_ enjoy teaching the youngling. I simply wish to know if he is progressing.” Bilbo exclaimed, shaking the shears at the Lord of Dale, who smiled and chuckled.

“That he is, Consort. He is progressing. Of that, do not doubt.” Bard said.  
“Good.” Bilbo said as he turned back towards the last long trough which held root vegetables. He hefted himself up onto the ledge, toes agiley curling into the groove as he poked at leaves and examined the dirt. He tugged at carrots, shook off the dirt and tucked them into the basket on his arm. He tugged on a few turnips and smiled as the last one came up with a small explosion of dirt. He toppled off the ledge and landed with a thump on the flagstone terrace.

Bard merely chuckled and stepped forward, he ignored the lifted axes as he pulled the Consort to his feet and stopped a rolling turnip with his foot. “These are the size of my head.” 

Bard hefted the turnip. Bilbo smirked. “So it is. Thorin had seeds imported from the Shire for me. These are… third generation, crossed with some of the local varieties. They retain their Shire size, while having the heartiness of mountain stocks.”

“These… are amazing.”

“Bilbo’s garden is his joy.” Thorin murmured. Bard turned, turnip still clutched between his hands.

“I can see why. Would the Consort mind lending me his expertise for a day or two in Dale? I came in part to get his advice. Before we start planting, would be best.” Bard murmured, still marveling at the plant.

“My Consort’s time is to do with as he pleases. However, he shall have guards the pair of us trust with him.”

“I would expect nothing less of the King Under the Mountain.” Bard said, offering a careful bow. Thorin scowled. Bilbo rolled his eyes and slipped the turnip out of Bard’s hands. Bard blinked and shook his head as a dwarf took the basket from Bilbo’s hands and bustled off.

“So, enough time for me to dress for the State Luncheon?” Bilbo hazarded. Thorin nodded. Bilbo sighed but bowed to Bard and headed out, only pausing long enough to pass the heavier cloak to one of his guards. Bilbo moved through the stone halls, nodding politely to various dwarves as he went along. Several bowed.

He heaved a sigh of relief on reaching the Royal Quarters. He smiled at Tauriel as she stepped out of Prince Kili’s rooms. She blushed slightly and lowered her eyes. 

“You look wonderful in that shade of green, Lady Tauriel.” Bilbo murmured.

“I thank you, Consort.” Tauriel said, lifting her eyes to meet Bilbo’s.

“Has Kili gotten over his embarrassment with his Uncle and I yet?” Bilbo inquired with a quick grin. Tauriel laughed and shook her head.

“Not really. He has asked that you and the King remember to close doors, if you would.” 

“Quite, I do believe it would save us all embarrassment in the future. I did _not_ mean for that to occur.” Bilbo responded, blushing heavily. His husband had been… rather… aggressive, closing in the door had been forgotten when the king hand … more or less… pounced.

“Since you still must dress, I shall leave you and go find the crown prince or his brother.” Tauriel murmured with a slight smile of understanding.

Bilbo bowed before he turned down the hall that led to his and Thorin’s rooms. The dwarven guards snapped to attention as he walked past. He heaved a sigh of relief as he vanished behind the doors to his and Thorin’s rooms.


End file.
